Exclusive Extra: Psy-Changeling Short Story
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SPECIAL AUTHOR NOTE
This is part 2 of Wildcat Blues. Please go back a newsletter to read part 1: here's a link to the previous newsletter.
Also, Tanner and Zara did in no way cooperate with my plan to tell their story in two parts. So I guess I'm writing another part now. ;-) Part 3 will be coming in a future newsletter.
Wildcat Blues
Part 2
By Nalini Singh
Zara jerked awake.
What was that?
She swiveled her head around, the sun that snuck in through the pretty yellow curtains as soft as the first kiss of dawn, and more than to confirm that she was all alone in her rustic farmhouse room with its sloping ceiling and large window.
The window was very important. Zara was a changeling. She didn’t like being contained and shut up and locked in.
“Tanner replaced the guest-room windows with larger ones when we first came to visit,” Tally had said, her cloud-gray eyes warm with so much affection that the amber ring around the gray seemed to glow. “He asked me what would work for my mate, then got it done. He’s the best big brother, you know.”
Of course Tanner Larkspur would be the first thing to pop into Zara’s mind. Hadn’t he haunted her all night in—
“Argh!” She sat up with a bounce as the rooster crowed again. What the hell? Was the thing right under her window? Did it want to get eaten? Zara was a civilized wildcat and was mostly content with getting her food from the butcher but she did have the hunt in her blood and it did need to be released every so often.
“Do not eat your hosts’ rooster,” she muttered, slumping back into bed and staring up at the sloping ceiling of what had once been Tally’s room. She wondered if her friend had put up pictures of crushes on that ceiling, or maybe light-up stars to keep her company at night. Or images of rock stars. Or maybe cowboys.
Like the one who was probably outside doing manly farmlike things.
Her face flushed. Thank the fates Tanner’d had to leave the farm yesterday soon after their arrival to go help out a neighboring farmer who’d lost a cow or something. Or was it to fix a tractor? She didn’t really remember, her hormones dancing so manically that her blood had been a rush of noise through her skull.
Whatever the reason for his departure, it had been a good thing. Because the way he’d been smiling at her, and the way her body had been reacting… She swallowed and, suddenly hot, shoved off the light throw under which she’d been sleeping. Since she was awake, she padded to the window in her panties and tank top, and peeked out through the curtains.
Fog licked the grass, the sky more gray than blue, and no pesky rooster in sight.
“Pretty,” she admitted. “And early.” That part didn’t bother her; she was an early riser and often went for a morning run in the forest in her wildcat form. No forest here, but a run sounded like a good idea.
Too bad she’d terrify the farm animals.
“They’re skittish but used to my scent now,” Clay had told her last night, his leopard a rumble in his voice. “They’ll sweat themselves dead out of fear if you get too close. Keep your distance unless I or one of the Larkspurs is with you to make the introductions. It still might not go well. Don’t take it personally.”
Her cousins would’ve laughed themselves stupid if they’d heard Clay’s warning. To them, Zara—the only female cousin—was about as ferocious as a friendly kitten. It had nothing to do with her gender; rather, it was her size and her refusal as a child to get her clothes or shoes dirty. When she bared her teeth at them, they grinned and said she was cute.
Zara didn’t know why she loved the giant hulking mugs, but her lips curved even now as she thought of them. They’d like Tanner. He might be human, but there was something about him that said he’d handle a bunch of aggressively protective changeling wildcats just fine. Not that he’d have to do anything of the sort. Because he was never going to meet Zara’s joyously crazy-making family.
Ne-vah. Because she planned to KEEP HER DISTANCE.
Zara had nothing against a little intimate skin privileges with a gorgeous hunk, but:
(1) He lived on a farm. Zara did not do farms. This visit was an exception because she’d wanted to get out of state for break, and she loved Tally, Clay, and the kids.
(2) He was Tally’s adopted big brother, and Zara did not make messes in her friendships.
(3) And, most importantly, Zara had reached a point in her life where she wanted true and forever. She wasn’t in the market for a fling.
She repeated that list of reasons inside her head as—having seen no animals outside that she might terrify—she pulled on her running tights, and switched out her sleep tank for a sports tank that helped keep her breasts from jiggling. Not that they were huge, but they were okay for a petite woman. Also, who wanted to be lopsided?
Okay, yes, maybe she’d wanted it as a teen, but she’d grown to love her body.
Today, she smiled as she used a soft band to push back her curls. It was bright purple. Jon had laughed when he’d seen it and said she was going back to the 1980s, then shown her a workout video from that era. Zara had informed him that true fashion never went out of style and bought two more in different colors. Now all she needed were the cute leg warmers from the video.
Aside from the purple headband, and a wedge of pink on the left thigh of her tights, her outfit was all black. It made her feel sleek and fast—which she was; none of her cousins could match her. A big reason why she took their ragging. Because they were good sports about her lording it over them when she left them in her dust.
Honestly, they were all—Zara included—hellions who were as juvenile as each other when it came to their teasing. But push come to shove, and she knew she could rely on each and every one without question. They knew the same about her.
The De Lêons stuck together like superglue.
Today, she tiptoed down the stairs with care, so as not to wake those who might still be sleeping. The smells wafting in from the direction of the kitchen told her that someone was definitely up, had brewed coffee, made some eggs. First, the run, then she’d wander into the kitchen and grab a plate of leftovers, or make herself some food if it was all gone.
The air was cool, crisp…and redolent with a thousand new smells that made her wildcat nose twitch. She supposed some of those smells might be termed bad, but to a cat, it was all just smells. And right now, while she might be in her human skin, her mind was of the cat.
She closed the front door behind herself, did a few stretches, then headed out across a field that appeared empty of livestock. The footing was uneven, probably from animal hooves, but it was nothing in comparison to the forest in which she regularly ran. Enjoying the bright, clean air, and the sprawling vista, she nonetheless kept her senses open for any sign of domestic animals.
The last thing she wanted to do was give some poor cow a heart attack.
But these fields appeared to have been left empty—to regrow the patchy grass maybe—or could be she was running on some vegetable fields left fallow for the season. So it wasn’t until she was out of sight of the house that she caught the hint of an animal scent.
She sniffed. “Horse.”
About to head in the opposite direction, she was halted by another scent entwined with that of the horse’s: Tanner Larkspur.
Her face flushed, her thighs clenched, and she made a bad, bad decision.
She turned in the direction of his scent. She wouldn’t go too close, wouldn’t scare his horse. She just wanted to…to… “You just want to eat him up with your eyes, Zara ‘Terrible Decision’ De Lêon, that’s what you want!” she muttered to herself. “Admit it. He’s like a live porn movie as far as your misbehaving hormones are concerned.”
Then there he was, out in the distance. The land wasn’t flat here, was kind of gently rolling, and he stood near a tree on a rise beyond the dip in front of her. He was doing something with a fence post. Fixing it maybe?
The man was also not wearing a shirt or a tee.
Zara threw up her hands. That was just ridiculous. The sun wasn’t even really up yet! How dare he flaunt himself to an innocent woman minding her own damn business.
His head lifted, though there was no way he should’ve sensed her. He was human, didn’t have her nose. But he tipped his cowboy hat back on his head…and smiled. She could feel the sexy punch of it even from so far out.
Her breasts seemed to swell in the confines of her bra, her skin suddenly hyper-hot.
And that was before he patted his horse, then started to walk toward her.
She should’ve turned around and continued her run in the opposite direction, but Zara didn’t run from anyone. Especially not a six-feet-plus tall man who smiled at her like she was his favorite flavor of ice-cream. “Such a bad idea, Zara,” she muttered under her breath. “Farm boy. Farm boy.”
The litany was a reminder of all the reasons she couldn’t and shouldn’t do this. Which was why she didn’t understand why she was running toward him, her wildcat pouncing at her skin in excitement, and her heart thumping against her ribcage.
She had enough control to stop halfway to his horse. Leaning up against the fence with both arms, she caught her breath. It hadn’t been a long run for a cat, and she wasn’t huffed because of the exercise.
It was him.
He reached her not long afterward. Stepping far too close, until she could’ve spread her hand on his bare chest without fully extending her arm, he smiled that lethal smile again and said, “Good morning, Zara.” The way he drawled out her name, it made it into something indecent.
“Tanner,” she said through a mouth that had turned into a desert. “You’re up early.”
“Farm hours,” he said, leaning up against the fence with one arm. “What’s your excuse, kitty cat?”
She narrowed her eyes. Had anyone else called her that, she’d have kicked him where it hurt. But… Oh, hell. “Early riser, farm boy.”
He grinned at her sharp retort. “I am that,” he said, easy as pie and as delicious. “Did you sleep okay? Strange place and all.”
“Yes. Until your suicidal rooster decided to sing me a demented aria.”
His laughter was warm caramel sliding over her skin, getting into places it had no business going. “You got a little time? I can show you around the farm a bit.”
Say no, Zara, recommended the sensible part of her brain.
The hormones cackled, and her lips parted. “What about your fencing?”
“It’ll keep.” His eyes lingered on her face, on her lips…as if he’d eat her up. “We’re in a small seasonal lull at the farm. That’s why Tally times her visits around now. So no one’s in a rush.”
“Oh. I don’t know much about farms.”
“You will,” he said, his lips curving again. “After your tour with a farm boy.”
“Right.” She flushed again, when she wasn’t a woman who went around mooning over men. Thank you to her parents for the dark tone of her skin. It hid all kinds of sins, including lusting after one out-of-bounds cowboy. “Shall I meet you back at the house?”
“Race you? Star there is fast, but you run like you own the wind.” He held her gaze full-on. Not a battle for dominance, but a connection that made her cat purr and arch its back. “You’re beautiful to watch in motion.”
Toes curling inside her running shoes, she pushed off the fence before she gave in to the primal wildness inside her and pounced on him. She liked being petted and praised by Tanner Larkspur. Especially when he looked at her that way, with those dark eyes so focused on her that it was as if nothing and no one else existed.
“I’ll wait for you to get back to your horse to keep it fair,” she said, her voice holding a slight huskiness.
“I’ll see you soon, kitty cat.” He turned to jog back to his horse.
“Oh, mercy,” she whispered, because watching Tanner move… She fanned herself while his back was turned and he couldn’t see her combusting.
Then he was pulling himself up onto Star, and the race was on.
She stretched out at full feline speed, giving no quarter as they raced home. He kept his horse at enough of a distance from her that the animal wouldn’t spook, but she could feel the vibration of Star’s hoofbeats, and knew she was smoking Tanner.
So she wasn’t the least surprised to reach the front door and look back to find him still halfway across a field. She waited. For what, she didn’t know…not until he grinned and lifted his hat to sweep it down in a salute.
Her own lips twitched.
Yeah, so he didn’t mind that she’d beaten him, was a man confident enough of his own strength that hers didn’t frighten him. As a younger woman, she’d had the misfortune to date someone who was scared by her—then—burgeoning confidence, and who’d delighted in making her feel less.
Never again would Zara permit any man to make her feel that way.
“And none of that has anything to do with Tanner,” she told herself sternly. “He’s just being a nice host and you’re being a friendly guest. That’s all.”
She even half-believed her stern pep talk through her quick shower and change—into a pretty yellow sundress, her curls out. She completed the outfit with white canvas sandals that were totally impractical for a farm, but that made her feel good. Then she stepped out the front door again, to find Tanner waiting for her beside what must’ve been an old farm vehicle. It was dented and scratched, the color a faded camo green, and it looked as tough as a grizzled old leopard.
Tanner’d changed too, was dressed in well-worn jeans that hugged his thighs, and a black tee that was loose enough not to hug his biceps. But Zara had x-ray vision now that she’d seen him half-naked once. She could imagine those biceps, count the ripples on his stomach.
Her mouth watered.
Opening the door of the vehicle, he said, “You look like sunshine,” and her cat preened.
Vain, vain, vain. But his words still made her happy. “You clean up nice, too,” she said in return, even though she liked him dirty just fine.
A languid smile that creased his cheeks and lit up his eyes was her reward.
Reaching the vehicle moments later, she saw the distance from the ground to the seat.
“Want some help?” murmured a deep male voice at her back, Tanner’s heat burning through her dress.
She wanted to angle her head in a silent invitation for him to kiss the slope of her neck as he stroked his hands— Focus, Zara!
What had he asked? If she wanted a lift.
Zara was a wildcat. She lived in an aerie in a tree. She climbed on a daily basis. But she turned and said, “Yes,” and Tanner put his big, warm hands on her waist, lifting her up until her mouth was at the same level as his. Her hands landed instinctively on the muscled power of his shoulders.
Their breaths mingled in the space between.
Her heartbeat turned into a drum.
Tanner’s smile faded into something darker, more intimate.
And her claws sliced out of her skin, pricking him through the soft cotton of his tee, her wildcat in no more mood to wait for a taste of sexy, gorgeous, all-wrong-for-her Tanner Larkspur.
Copyright © 2021 by Nalini Singh
To be continued...
If you haven't tried the Psy-Changeling series, you can dive in at either Slave to Sensation or Silver Silence.
